Just Hold It Like A Football Dude
by Kurious Killer
Summary: The title says it all. Happy Belated Father's Day.


"**Just hold it like a football dude."**

"I can't."

"**Why not?" **

"Because its not a football."

"_Excuse me but _he _is not a football._"

"**We **know**." **

"_Then stop calling him an _it!"

"**Yea.** Yea."

"_The both of you had better stop doing that_"

I look at Geoff and he just rolls his eyes and mutters, "**Chicks." **

I nod back and look down to it- I mean him.

You know for the nine months of hell I was in because of this little bundle, he really should way more. I didn't think this little sack of trouble would weigh so, so not heavy! He seems lighter than even a football but I know that's not true.

"**Dude he's not gonna break. He's isn't your Ma's glass vase. He's a human."**

"But-"

"_Here! Give me my son!"_

"Our son, dear." I flash my wife my famous smirk and watch her face grow red to reveal those sweet six freckles. She stomps over to the couch to where Geoff was trying to teach me to hold the little guy right but it wasn't working out so well.

My dear sweet wife plops herself between me and Geoff and glares at Geoff which sends him flying to the kitchen where his own wife is hiding. I could hear him mutter, **"Pregnant women are dangerous even after the baby is out."**

I laugh at how true it is. And get a death glare from my wife and that shuts me up in a second.

We both stare at the little human we made together and it seems like it's only the three of us in the entire world.

Eventually she takes the baby out of my arms, which I was holding awkwardly with my arms too wide and the baby was practically sleeping in my lap rather than my arms. She places the little bundle of "joy" besides her and adjust my arms.

She makes a much smaller cradle and my left elbow sticks out a bit so I tuck it in but she grabs my elbow and pulls it out once more and says, _"Your elbow acts like a pillow for the baby to support his little head. The tighter you hold him, the better he feels."_

I look into my empty arms when there he is once again in my arms, but he looks much more comfortable than before. You know, when he's sleeping, my son does seem like the gift from God my wife rambles on about.

The peace is broken by crying, not my son's crying but Geoff's little girl, Rachel. He and Bridgette had a girl about a year ago, they came to help me and my wife out with being new parents. But then Rachel's crying wakes up my son and he starts to cry. My wife immediately takes him; together the two go to the kitchen to feed his hungry stomach.

Geoff comes in to the living to sit by me again to escape the crazy baby drama going on in the kitchen.

"**See? I told you to hold him like a football. Remember what coach always told us? Treat the football like the most important thing in the world, that why you maggots wont DROP it! Now give me ten laps around the field, ladies!" **

Geoff and I break out laughing at the memories we had back in high school. Senior year was eight years ago but we can still remember Hell Week and the championship games we won every year.

"Yea. But I always held the football tucked underneath my armpit. I was the running back remember. So I don't think Courtney would appreciate our son passing out from these sweet smelling fumes," I tell my best friend as I lift my arms for him to smell my pits. He's used to the smell since our lockers were right next to each other but it still gets to him.

He grabs his hat to fan in front of his face, "**Pwuh! DUDE! When was the last time you took a shower or put on some deodorant? The day before you guys left for the hospital!"**

I laugh, "Pretty much. I couldn't leave Courtney's side when she was labor since she had a vice grip on my arm and hand. She would've broken them both if the doctor hadn't given her the drugs."

"**I remember those days,"** Geoff says shaking his head.

The crying has stopped and our wives come back to the living with two happy fed babies.

Man Courtney looks beautiful, even though she has bags under her eyes, messy unruly curly hair tied into a rushed bun, but with our son in her arms, this morning couldn't be more perfect.

Courtney places our son back in my arms and I hold him like I'm supposed to, or at least better than before.

"_So how do you like your Daddy, David? Is he doing a better job than at the hospital?"_ Courtney cooed to our new son. I give her a glare and watch for David's response.

He smiles. I think. It might be gas though. But then he gurgles and giggles so I guess that's a yes.

I sigh with relief and say, "You sure aren't a football little guy."

_**KK: This is just a cute little drabble I wrote. Review if you want. **_

_**Happy Late Father's Day! **_


End file.
